


Damn Them All

by Charmtion



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Forbidden Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 15:05:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16244129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmtion/pseuds/Charmtion
Summary: He moves lithe and quiet as a wolf, turning her under his body, pinning her hands in one of his above her head, diving to nip her throat and breathing a rattling sigh as she arches her body up off the bed in longing.A midnight room where honour does not exist - and love reigns instead.





	Damn Them All

She comes to him at midnight, a pale dark-haired ghost wreathed in moonlight. He sits up in bed, leans back against the banked pillows and watches her deft feet cross the room toward him. Save for a cut of bearskin draped around her shoulders, she is naked; and the play of shadows and silver light drifting in serpentine shapes across her hips and belly is enough to make him hard. She pauses at the foot of his great bed, lifts her hand to her throat and pulls the bearskin loose, lets it drop to the floor: a brown pool of fur shadowing her feet in the half-light. He swallows, hard, and reaches out a hand to her. Her head tilts to one side as she looks coolly at his outstretched fingers, watches as they part and flutter helplessly in the cool night air, reaching for her, clawing for her. She steps around to the side of the bed. He’s moved there already, sitting perched on its edge, his legs apart and then pulling closed as she steps into the circle of his arms. Her small hand lifts to his face and smooths back the tawny hair from his brow, slips across the wild beard hiding his down-turned lips, finds them and traces them with her thumb. His hands are at her hips, leaving soft white marks in her flesh, and his eyes glance from her gaze to her breasts, growing stiff and heavy in the moonlight, and back again. He waits patiently: her Ned is a patient man.

“I heard you calling,” she murmurs, her hand caressing his jaw, thumb skating his cheekbone, sweeping the tight skin beneath his eyes soothingly. “Dark dreams have troubled you of late. Dreams of smoke and blood and roses. I see them sometimes when I look at you. I feel them in my heart, deep and heavy as a stone drops in a river.” She lowers herself onto his lap, pushing him back onto the bed, her arms resting lightly on his shoulders. “I know not of the promises you have made, the secrets you fight to keep, the thousand hurts you nurse because honour forces you to remember.” Her hand trails gently across his chest, over skin marked by scars and burns and old bruises, and rests atop his heart. “But this I do know, this heart of yours that calls to mine - despite honour and duty and loyalty. Damn them all, Ned, they are shells and shadows compared with the light love brings.”

He leans his forehead into her throat, breathing hard through his nose, his hands tracing patterns on her hips. She shudders, tips back her head, offers him her throat. He kisses it, tastes the salt of her skin with his tongue. Suddenly her mouth is on his, keening, whining, taking his tongue with her own, and her body is pushing hard against his, bearing him back onto the featherbed, her hands hawks’ claws on his chest. He moves lithe and quiet as a wolf, turning her under his body, pinning her hands in one of his above her head, diving to nip her throat and breathing a rattling sigh as she arches her body up off the bed in longing. He takes her mouth again, releases her hands and groans as they fall to his hair and twist and pull without mercy. He feels her legs part beneath him, feels her arch up and press her cunt to his belly. Hot and wet, she leaves her mark on his skin, her legs circling his hips and pulling with all her might to feel his flesh slick against hers.

“Come inside,” she whispers, shattering the quiet, pulling him by his hair back from her kiss. He drinks deep the drunk look in her eyes. “Oh, please, Ned, please.” He dips his head, sucks a nipple into his mouth and darts it with his tongue. She writhes uncontrollably beneath him, her hips bucking up against his cock, her hands curling around her breasts, forcing his mouth to play at both of them. “I need you inside me, my lord.” His hand sweeps from her waist to her cunt and he parts her easily, runs a finger back and forth between the hot folds, feels her building fit to burst. “Ned, oh, Ned, oh love – ” she tips back her head, the pillow lost beneath her inky tresses, her hands scratching at his scalp as he suckles her nipple and holds her cunt in his palm. His thumb presses against her now and she jolts against him, yanks him up to meet her glare as she bites his lower lip hard. “Now,” she commands, impatient and imploding, ignoring the sad little smile playing at his lips. “I want you inside me now. I need you there, my love.”

He rears back slightly, his belly pressed against her, his eyes lighting triumphantly on her stiff nipples still showing wet from his mouth, and he spreads her legs further apart, pushing his cock into her slick hot folds, groaning heavily as she takes him, all of him, deep within her walls. Her moan is hardly human, it is a whimper, a whine, a feral broken thing, and her ankles cross over his back, her hips rising and knees lifting as she rocks back and takes him further inside, arching her back and pushing her breasts into his chest, exulting in the feel of him stretching pushing probing _filling_ her so completely. They stay very still for some time, neither daring to move, neither wanting to break the depth they share, not only in this primal connection of flesh, but here where their eyes meet and bleed into each other’s, soft grey drinking in deep blue.

“I belong here, Nell,” he says, his voice hoarse and low, his eyes clearing as if waking from some distant dream.

“You belong here,” she murmurs, lifting a hand to pull his face slowly down to hers. He kisses her, slow and soft and sad and sweet. “I am your home.”

He moves gently inside of her now, kisses the hurt pleasure pain away from her face. “You are my home.” His forehead rests against her own and her arms rise to wrap around his body, her hips rising up to meet his steady rhythm. Her soft moan tears his heart open and he knows in that instant that she is his and he is hers. “Damn them all,” he whispers into the warm cave of her mouth. “You are mine, love, and I am yours.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

>  **NB** : this one-shot later inspired me to write more of Ned and Nell. You can find them, if you so wish, here ([Hearth, Home and Heart Tree.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16274765/chapters/38058182)) and here ([Flowers of Autumn.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16795612/chapters/39420901%22)) 🐺


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